


Fall to Pieces (Velvet Revolver)

by Clitler



Series: Destiel Playlist [21]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blow Jobs, But he loves his boys, Cas fic, Cliffhangers, Dean Has Nightmares, Family Drama, Family Feels, Frottage, John is a Bit Not Good, John is not a bigot, Kinda, Other, Slight horror, Trans Character, sorrynotsorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-27
Updated: 2017-12-27
Packaged: 2019-02-22 13:39:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13168065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Clitler/pseuds/Clitler
Summary: The second chapter, sequel to Fever (Peggy Lee)Dean confronts John about leaving hunting and about CasJohn does what any parent would do, he Googles Cas





	Fall to Pieces (Velvet Revolver)

**Author's Note:**

> 'Another one so soon? Clitler, you're the best!'
> 
> I know, I know, thank you, thank you!
> 
> Seriously though, this story has been niggling away at the back of my brain for months.  
> But I'm going to bed after I post this, as my employer expects me to actually be awake for my next shift.

Fall to Pieces (Velvet Revolver)

            “Hey,” Dean says simply as he climbs out of Baby.  John is leant up against the passenger side of his old truck, hands in the pockets of his heavy canvas jacket.  He smiles at Dean and drags him into a strong hug and Dean allows it, closing his eyes and breathing the smell of his childhood deeply for just a moment.  John always smells like leather, campfire smoke, and Jovan cologne and it kicks Dean back to endless nights on the road, he and Sammy in the backseat of the Impala, playing with army men and Legos in the near-dark, Zeppelin playing dimly as their dad hummed along absently.

 

            John breaks the hug and holds Dean out at arm’s length, smacking one of his shoulders and grinning like a fool, “Good to see ya, son!  You look, uh, well-rested,” he says.

 

            Dean can’t help but smile, any little bit of praise or affection he gets from John always makes him illogically happy, “Um, yeah, it’s been a good couple of weeks.”

 

            John grabs his duffle out of the bed of the truck and slings the other arm around Dean’s shoulders, leading him toward room 11, “Yeah, well, looks like this little break done you the world of good, Dean.  Musta really been getting burnt out, huh?”

 

            “I guess so, yeah,” Dean mutters as he fishes his room key out of his jacket and pushes it into the ancient lock.

 

            “Well, son, time to get back in the saddle.  This one’s a real bitch kitty of a case,” John say convivially as he throws his duffle on the only bed in the room.  It’s just now going dark outside and Dean slumps, thinking he’ll be spending the night on the lumpy pullout sofa in this rat’s nest motel instead of curled up with Cas in her soft bed, like he’d planned.

 

            “I’m…I’m not…” Dean trails off at his dad’s puzzled look.  He takes a deep breath and pushes forward, “I’m not really gonna be _back_ , Dad.  Just this one case, this one time, with you, then I’m gonna…I’m…um, well, I kinda was thinkin’ I might take a bit of a longer break.”

 

            “What the Hell are you talkin’ about, kid?” John’s face has gone thunderous, “You wanna just quit? Just leave, like your brother?  You gonna just abandon m-our work, just like that?” John’s voice was getting louder and louder and Dean didn’t miss the almost-spoken accusation that he would leave his dad like Sam had.

 

            “NO! Dad, damnit, it’s not…it’s not like that, I just…and Sam didn’t _abandon_ us or the work!  Okay? He wants to go to school, not get a memory wipe!  He still helps out where he can, with, like, research and shit,” Dean could take John’s anger directed at himself, but not at Sam, never at Sammy.  Defending Sam’s choice was giving Dean a sudden burst of confidence, along with that beautiful dream-life with Cas in her happy little trailer of normality.  To most people, it might seem anything but normal to fall in love with someone like her, but those people hadn’t lived Dean’s life and Cas was everything he could ever want. 

 

            “Oh! Research, of course! The cornerstone of hunting! How could I forget Sam’s important _, occasional_ , page-turning!  How stupid of me to expect at least **_one_** of my sons to want to continue fighting **_evil fucking monsters_** and **_saving innocent lives_**!!!” John shouts back at him.

 

            Dean pinched the skin between his eyes, willing the molten anger rising in his chest back down, “ _Dad_ , please, will you, for once, just _listen_ to what I am saying?” Dean looked back up at his dad with as much love and patience as he could muster.  He knew, probably better than anyone, the real demons that haunted his father.  He’d only been four when Mary died, but he still remembers every awful minute of watching the father he’d adored crumbling under the weight of his grief.  He’d only loved Cas for three weeks and losing her was an unimaginable horror he didn’t ever want to face.  That was his reason for this whole argument with John.  Dean wanted to stay with Cas, but he couldn’t be the kind of man she needed if he was always running off to help other people, risking his life for people who would never know his name or be able to grasp what he’d done for them, living off credit card scams and risking arrest every time he investigated a case.  He had to limit or eliminate his involvement in the hunting community if he was ever going to have a chance at happiness.  Sam, the kid he’d taught to tie his shoes and ride a bike and load a shotgun with rock salt, had finally taught _him_ something.

 

            John’s face finally smoothed out of the scowl he’d adopted, his shoulders slumping as he sat heavily on the bed, waving his hand at Dean for him to continue.

 

            Dean let his own shoulders drop a bit, trying to affect a less confrontational stance, choosing to just talk to his father like any other man, “Look, I’ve, um, I’ve met someone-“

 

            “Dean! You can’t-“ John sputtered.

 

            Dean held up a hand, “It’s done, there’s no changing it now,” he sighed, suddenly weary of fighting his feelings, his responsibilities, his father, all of it, “I love her and I’m pretty damn sure she loves me.  And anyway, that’s why I want, no…I _need_ to get out!  Don’t you see, Dad? This might be my only chance to be happy!  Don’t you think I’ve earned it? Don’t I deserve to be happy and maybe live a slightly normal life?  Huh? Dad, look at me,” John looked up, meeting Dean’s eyes, if a little reluctantly. “Don’t you think Mom would want us to be happy?  Maybe you’re only happy when you’re hunting things like the one that killed her, but Sam and me, don’t we deserve more than a life of vengeance?”

 

            John sat silently, his gaze morphing from obstinance to pain to confusion as he listened to Dean plead his case.  The two sat in silence when Dean wound down, both preoccupied with thoughts of the women they loved.  John knew he’d fucked up, fucked up his life and the boys’ lives.  There was no going back and shaking some sense into his past self, there were no childhood-do-overs for Dean and Sam.  But, goddamnit, he’d done the best he could at the time!  He couldn’t just run away and pretend those _things_ didn’t exist in the world! He couldn’t raise his boys, Mary’s boys, like there wasn’t true Evil out there!  They had to know how to protect themselves and he had to make those evil sons of bitches _pay_!  How could Dean want to go bury his head in the sand, settle down with some pretty little thing, when there was so much Evil to fight?  It was this idea that finally prompted him to speak.

 

            “How can you live your happy, normal life knowing what’s out there?  Knowing that while you’re sitting down to Sunday supper with your family, that someone out there needs help only _you_ know how to provide?  We’re the only ones they can turn to, the only ones who _believe_ them!” John jumped up and started pacing the room.  “I thought I’d taught you boys better than that!”

 

            Dean shook his head, trying very hard not to give up.  He understood everything his father was saying, had believed in it like he believed in nothing else in this life, up until he met Cas.  “I don’t…I’m not saying…I don’t want to leave hunting entirely, “ that was a lie, “I just…I want to try to have a life of _my own_!  Something outside of hunting and monsters and pain and blood and death!” Now he was crying, silent tears rolling down his face.

 

            “What’s her name?” John stopped abruptly to face his son.

 

            “Um, what?” Dean was shocked at the sudden change in his dad’s tone, “Um, Cas, it’s Cas.”

 

            “Cas? Short for Cassandra? It’s not that snooty little Cassie chick, is it?”

 

            “Um, no,” Dean could feel the blush rising on his neck again, “It’s, uh, it’s not short for anything, it’s just Cas.”

 

            “What the Hell kinda name is that? You get a last name before you went and fell in _love_?”

 

            “Why? What does it matter to you?” Dean nearly shouted, defensively.

 

            Dean’s tone sent up all kinds of red flags for John. He narrowed his eyes, “Tell me her damn name, Dean.  Why are you trying to keep it a secret?”

 

            “ ** _Because she’s mine!!_** She’s for me and if you find her…you’ll…”

 

            “I’ll what?”

 

            “You’ll try to find something wrong with her!  You’ll try to…to fuck this up for me!  So I’ll have to come back and hunt with you,” Dean slumped in defeat, “I guess it doesn’t fucking matter, you’ll just figure out some other way to find her, so, fine. It’s Angelus.  Cas Angelus.”

 

            “I’m not…Dean, I don’t want to fuck anything up for you,” John knelt down to look Dean in the eye, “I wouldn’t…well, maybe before, I would have, but not now, now that I know you don’t, how you feel…God, I’m no good at this chick flick shit.”

 

            Dean smiled at that, at least he came by it honestly.  John smiled back, “Didja at least check her out?”

 

            “Yeah, Dad, Jesus, of course I did!  What kinda idiot do ya think I am? Holy water in her drink, she didn’t react to my ring, sneezed a ‘Christo’ the first night, nothing, she’s good.”

 

            “No hex bags or occult stuff in her house?”

 

            “Unless the basil she grows in a window box in the kitchen is her staple tool of witchcraft, then no, no witch shit.”

 

            “Well, alright, then,” John sighed and stood up, both knees and his back protesting loudly, making him grit his teeth.  He’d been thrown around too many times to go even one day without this kind of pain.  Maybe Dean wouldn’t have to grow old before his time.  Maybe both his boys would have a chance to actually _grow_ old instead of dying bloody too soon, like every other hunter.  “You still gonna help me with this case?”

 

            Dean huffed a laugh, “Yeah, sure, Dad.  Said I would, didn’t I? Tell me about it.”

 

            “Okay, So, get this…”

 

 

 

            Dean was sprawled out on the double bed, snoring lightly, a half hour after John had given him the rundown of the latest case.  John knew he’d wake at the slightest sound, so he took his son’s laptop in the bathroom and shut the door silently.  He knew both his boys thought he was a dinosaur who didn’t know a search engine from his left ass cheek, but in Dean’s absence, he’d gotten pretty good at teaching himself some basic computer skills, even though most of the lore he needed for cases was only found in books.  He could at least perform a search on this woman Dean was willing to discard his principles for.  John typed ‘Cas Angelus’ into Google and clicked on the first result, an advertisement for a local night club where the girl apparently performed four nights a week.  She looked to be some kind of lounge singer, but there was no picture in the ad.  John went back and clicked on the second entry, which was a public Facebook page dedicated to her.  The main profile picture was just a single red high heel in front of a picture of the night club’s neon sign , so he scrolled through the page’s photo gallery until he came across a picture of a woman in a long red dress.  She was sitting on a stool, under a spotlight, her muscular left leg revealed up to the thigh by a slit in the dress, a microphone in her hand.  Her head was tipped back slightly, and her face was in profile, so John could clearly see her prominent Adam’s apple and a dusting of dark stubble across her chin.  Stubble, muscles, Adam’s apple.  John pulled his head back and rubbed his eyes.  She…she was a…shit.  Dean was dating a fucking _drag queen_??? John muttered little breathy ‘no, no, no’s as he backed out of the page and clicked on link after link, searching for different pictures of this ‘woman’.  Every single one he found showed the same thing, Cas Angelus was a man who dressed up as a woman and lip-synced to other people’s songs.  Every candid shot showed a man dressed in casual women’s wear and makeup, but still obviously a _man_.  John stared off into the middle distance for a minute, trying to work out this new information.

 

            Dean said her name was Cas Angelus.  He called her a woman.  He seemed convinced she _was_ a woman. So, either Dean was lying to John and himself, or this Cas person was a witch or a creature who had cast a spell over Dean to make itself appear like a woman.  But Dean had done all the checks.  John trusted that he’d done them.  Dean never faltered in his training.  It had always been Sam he’d had to argue into basic safety, always having to explain the ‘why’ of every little test.  But…Dean isn’t gay.  Is Dean gay?  How could John not know it if he was?  John knew everything about his oldest son.  Dean had never been able to lie effectively, not to John.  It wouldn’t even occur to him to seriously try.  How could he be gay and John _not_ know?  Not that it’d be a problem, plenty of good hunters were a little light in the loafers, like that Jesse and Caesar.  They’d helped John out a couple times lately and proven themselves quite capable.  Damn fine fellas, too.  Jesse could drink John under the table and that was pretty rare.  No, there had to be another explanation.  John bent over the laptop and widened his search.

 

 

 

            Dean’s dreaming.

 

            He knows he’s dreaming because there’s that indefinable quality of skipping from moment to moment without knowing how one bled into the next and simultaneously not really caring about the logic of it all.  First, he’s lying in a field of soft grass.  The sun is above him and it’s warm, with a slight breeze cooling the sweat on his brow.  He knows Cas is here, too.  He doesn’t see her or hear her, but he just knows. He blinks and he’s stretched out in the backseat of Baby, a warm body in his arms.  He breaths in Cas’ pomegranate shampoo and relaxes.  Cas says they’re safe here and Dean believes her.  Then they’re in her bed.  She’s laying little kisses down his chest, his stomach, across his hips.  He feels arousal, but it’s a distant, unimportant thing.  It’s much important to tell Cas…something important.  He was telling her something very important but now his mind can’t quite hold onto it.  Her head of messy black hair is bobbing over his cock and all the heat of the lust he was ignoring comes rushing down his spine and he’s nothing but his aching, throbbing dick, spurting precum into her wet mouth as she swirls her tongue along the vein that runs from his base to his frenulum.  God, he wants to come, wants to shoot down her tight, velvet throat.  He’s right there, right on the edge, a babbling, drooling mess of need when she stops and looks up at him.  He looks down and she has no face.  She has no eyes, no nose, no mouth, but somehow, his cock is buried to the hilt in her no-face and he wants to scream, tries to scream but nothing comes out, no sound.  Dean scrambles his fingers up to his face, but he has no mouth, no nose, no eyes and then someone _is_ screaming and he’s shaking and Cas and her no-face dissolves and there’s just John, screaming ‘Dean, Dean!’ in his face.

 

            Dean gasps a huge breath and smacks both hands into his face in his haste to make sure it’s still there, sobbing when he feels the familiar contours of his lips, the crook of his oft-broken nose, the fluttery lashes and soft skin of his eyelids. He sits up, shaking John’s hands off him, and pants out a relieved litany of ‘fuck’s, burying his face in his hands, and tries to calm his heart.

 

            “Whatever it was, well, it must’ve been a doozy, son,” John says as he shuffles around the room, collecting Dean’s scattered few belongings.  He’s been spending most of his time with Cas the last two weeks, so it doesn’t take John long.  Dean rolls out of bed and heads into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him.  He’s back out in five minutes, toiletry bag and sweat-soaked t shirt in hand.  He throws them in his duffle and pulls a clean t shirt on.  John doesn’t say anything more about Cas and he doesn’t ask about the nightmare, for which Dean is grateful.  That last bit is still stuck in his head and he’s more than a little rattled.  Dean goes to check out while John loads up the Impala and they head out without another word.

 

            The hunt takes six days and goes about as well as Dean expected, which is not well at all.  John had his theories all screwed up and they almost missed the leader of the coven, which was trying to work a spell to put their entire small town under a thrall.  The leader smiled through her bloody teeth as she lay dying and told Dean it was always better to be a big fish in a small pond, like that justified the murder of the family of four whose blood they’d needed for the spell.  And, of course, there had been the requisite bodily fluids.  Dean’s shirt was currently smeared with blood, piss, and what he was fairly sure was semen.  He wrapped himself in a ratty old horse blanket he’d found in the barn where the coven was performing their ritual, to save his leather jacket and let John drive back to the motel.  He hadn’t answered any of Sam’s texts after the first day when he told his brother he was on a hunt with John.  Cas was another story.  He’d refuse to call her in John’s presence, but every night when John ducked into the bathroom to shower, Dean had been instantly hunched over his phone, telling Cas he missed her and begging her to tell him every little detail of her day.  She said she wanted to tell him something important, but not over the phone.  He promised her he also had something to tell her and he’d be coming back as soon as they were done.  Every night was a torture, torn between longing to sleep so he could dream of her and scared shitless that he’d fall asleep and have another nightmare.  It all added up to a horrible mood he just couldn’t shake, even with the coven dead and the town safe, he couldn’t seem to muster enough enthusiasm to congratulate himself.  He just wanted to get home to Cas.

 

            Dean stopped in the middle of drying off after his shower.  _Home_.  Home was with Cas.  It wasn’t the Impala.  It wasn’t the endless string of fleabag motels he’d grown up in.  It wasn’t Bobby’s.  It wasn’t even Sam, not anymore.  Cas was the only home he needed.  Wherever she was, was home now.  Dean smiled and pulled on his sweats and a t shirt.  He should be scared of this sea change, but he wasn’t.  He was excited to drive up to her trailer, excited to kiss her, excited to hold her in his arms, excited to tell her he loves her more than anything in the world.  He was shocking himself with how okay he felt about giving up hunting.  Not entirely, of course.  A couple hunts a year, maybe help out with research, be a resource for other hunters, like Bobby, only a little less involved.  That’d be okay, that’d be just fine.  He could get a regular job, be a regular guy.  He couldn’t wait.  While John was taking his turn with the motel’s less than stellar water pressure, Dean called Cas and told her he would be back first thing in the morning.  She was so happy and Dean almost cried with longing to see her again.  John didn’t say anything when he finally emerged from the bathroom to find Dean curled up in one of the beds, seemingly asleep.

 

 

 

            Dean’s phone woke him promptly at seven and he had John bustled into the Impala a half hour later, despite his protests that they needed to talk.  Dean told him to talk in the car, but John said he needed coffee first and he didn’t want to do this while they were driving.  Dean raced down the highway, singularly focused on getting John back to his truck so Dean could get back to Cas.  They made it in 40 minutes. 

 

            As soon as he put Baby in Park and turned off the ignition, Dean jumped out to open the trunk for John to get his bag.  John sighed and slowly exited the vehicle.

 

            “Dean, will you please stop a minute and hear me out?” John said loudly.

 

            “Why?  What could you possibly have to tell me?” Dean grabbed his dad’s duffle and slammed the trunk of the Impala.  He shoved John’s duffle at him as his father came around to the driver’s side.  John threw his duffle in the bed of his truck and turned back to Dean, hands on his hips.

 

            “Well, for one thing, your lovely new girlfriend isn’t even a _girl_!”

 

            “What did you just say?” Dean asked lowly, a tone that would have made anyone else shut up and run away. Quickly.

 

            “She’s not a she, she’s a he, Dean!  You can’t tell me you didn’t notice you were fucking someone with a _dick_!”

 

            Dean’s mouth hung open for a full minute before he sputtered, “How-ho-what, where…how did you know?”

 

            “OH COME THE FUCK ON, DEAN!!! _She_ is six foot tall! _She_ has an Adam’s apple bigger than mine! _She_ has a goddamn five o’clock fucking shadow!  How the hell can you stand there and still act like that’s a woman?” John screamed.

 

            “Because she…she…she just _is_ , okay?” Dean had fallen back against the Impala when John started screaming at him, but now he stood up straight.  He wasn’t quite as tall as John, but he was definitely broader, and stronger, and younger.  He realized with a sharp clarity that he was ready and willing to beat the shit out of his own father if the man said _one more_ word against Cas.  “She **_is_** a woman because she **_says_** she’s a woman and she’s **_my_** woman and I love her, so I suggest you shut your bigoted _fucking_ mouth right the fuck **_now_**!” Now he was chest-to-chest with his father, close enough to clearly register the look of confused hurt that crossed his old man’s face at the word ‘bigoted’.

 

            “Dean,” John almost-whispered, “that’s not why I…I’m not…I’m not a bigot!  I don’t give a good-goddamn what he has between his legs or who you fuck!  How can you think that?”

 

            “Well, then why the Hell are you so hung up-“ Dean started, volume much lowered in surprise.

 

            “ _Dean._ ”  Both men’s heads whipped around to stare at the door to room 11, which was now half-open, Cas standing uncertainly in the doorway.

 

            “ _Cas_ ,” Dean breathed, his father forgotten, and he ran the few steps to stand in front of her.  She turned wet, blue eyes up to him, her left hand coming up to cup his cheek.

 

            “Did you just say you love me?” She asked, incredulous.

 

            Dean smiled so hard his cheeks hurt, “Yeah, Baby, I do.”  He took her beautiful face in his own calloused palms, brushing his thumbs across the barely-there stubble , “I love you so fucking much, Cas, I can’t hardly stand it.”  Dean leaned in to kiss her sweet lips, but she brought her right hand up to press his chest back gently.

 

            “I,” Cas looked down at Dean’s lips, then back up to his eyes, “I love you, too.”  Cas gripped a handful of his shirt and yanked him forward for a searing kiss that quickly devolved as both swept their tongues into the other’s mouth, like they wanted crawl into each other and never come back out.

 

            Dean pulled her closer and wrapped his thick arms around her neck and waist, gripping the flimsy material of her long skirt at her hip to anchor himself as he delved into her pliant mouth.  Cas grabbed the back of his neck, fingernails scratching shivery lines of fire in the short hair there, her other hand latching onto his ass, dragging their growing erections together.  After a moment, Dean broke away to breathe, letting Cas work her way across his jaw and down his neck.  Dean glimpsed John still standing where he’d left him, mouth open in shock or maybe disgust.  He didn’t even care at this point.

 

            “Dean, I didn’t-“ John started coming toward them.

 

            “Leave us,” Dean growled as he bundled Cas further into the room, kicking the door shut with one heavy boot.  He reached back and flipped the bar lock closed, sealing them into the room, alone at last.  Dean reached down, gripping Cas under her thighs and, God bless her, she got the message instantly, hopping a bit while he heaved, and wrapped her long legs around his waist, lips never leaving his neck as she sucked mark after mark there.  Dean groaned and walked the three feet to the bed with Cas grinding and whimpering against him.  He laid her out on the bed and pulled back, gently guiding her hands down and off him.  Cas keened at the loss.

 

            “Baby, wanna make you feel so good,” Dean crooned, leaning down to suck a mark on Cas’ collar bone.  “Wanna suck your pretty cock, wanna taste you,” he traced the edge of her panties where they met her soft inner thigh, “Wanna make you come so hard, wanna drink you all day, baby.”

 

            “Me first,” she whispered and flipped them, putting Dean on his back, sideways in the bed, in a move so unexpectedly sexy it had Dean’s cock straining the durability of his jean’s zipper.  Cas straddled his hips and quickly undid his belt, popping the button and dragging the zipper down, all in what seemed like one move.  Dean lost his breath as she yanked his jeans and boxers down just far enough to free his drooling cock, shimmying down and sucking the head into the scorching heat of her perfect mouth so fast Dean screamed at the bolt of pleasure that tore through his groin.

 

            “ _FUCK!_ Cas…babe…ungh,” Cas plunged her head down, taking him into her throat and he nearly came right then, but a brief flash of the nightmare he’s had in this very bed pulled him back from the edge.  “Hmhmm, baby, look at me…ah, yeah, fuck…let me see you,” he begged.

 

            Cas turned her blue eyes up to him, shiny with tears and round as dinner plates, her pupils blown wide.  Her lashes fluttered as she moaned when she felt his cock throb in her mouth and she immediately got back to work, hollowing her cheeks, the incredible suction and wet heat making Dean’s eyes roll back in their sockets, his toes curling in his boots.  His stomach muscles jumped as she swirled her tongue into his slit on the upstroke, along the vein on the downstroke and he felt his orgasm building quickly in the base of his spine.

 

            “Oh, fuck, Cas, babe…gonna…wait, I’m…fuck, I’m gonna…” Dean tried to warn her to slow down, but she looked back up at him and sucked hard as she swallowed around the head of his dick and that was it.  Fire exploded in his head and raced through his body as he shot down her throat, which worked to take his load, milking wave after wave of electric pleasure out of his twitching cock.  She dropped his spent dick and scrambled up his prone body, gasping and whining.

 

            _“Dean, Dean, please…please, baby,”_ Dean grabbed hold of her ass and hauled her up to his face so he could mouth at her leaking cock through her teal panties, soaking them completely as she begged and writhed above him.  Cas settled her knees on either side of his head, gripped the headboard and rode his face as hard as she could.  Face buried in her musky sex, surrounded by her filmy skirt, Dean groaned into the hard line of her cock.  He took her pink head in his mouth where it stuck out over the top of the wet panties and gave a mighty suck.  Cas screamed and came in heavy ropes that quickly overflowed Dean’s mouth, spilling down his cheeks and chin as Cas ground her dick against his lips and shook with the quake of her orgasm.  She slumped against the headboard, panting and moaning as Dean tried to lick her clean, his dick giving a valiant twitch but he wasn’t 19 any more and it would be a while before he could get hard again.

 

            Cas melted down the bed to clutch at Dean sideways, her head resting on his shoulder, “Oh my God, Dean,” she breathed, “that was…fuck, baby…that…” she gave up and puffed out a hot breath to push her hair out of her face.

 

            “I know,” Dean looked down at her as she looked up at him, “I was gonna-“

 

            The motel room door exploded inward in a shower of wood chips and purple sparks before he could finish.

**Author's Note:**

> Don't kill me!  
> I swear I'm working on the next chapter already!


End file.
